


Make A Joyful Noise

by willowbough



Category: Voyagers! (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Christmas, Future Fic, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2852237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowbough/pseuds/willowbough
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arriving in a remote Austrian village on Christmas Eve, the Voyagers are confused about their mission but receive help from an unlikely source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make A Joyful Noise

**Author's Note:**

> I have always had a fondness for this show, and several years ago, I wrote this small holiday-themed one-shot that I posted on another site. I'm pleased to see a Voyagers! section now on AO3, and as today is Christmas, this seems the ideal time to post my old story here. I hope to see more stories in this fandom as time goes by. Happy Holidays to everyone!
> 
> Phineas Bogg and Jeffrey Jones belong to Scholastic Productions, James D. Parriott Productions, and Universal-MCA Entertainment. Everyone else belongs to history—or eternity.

Snow blanketed the tiny mountain village in drifts of white, thick and soft as eiderdown but far colder. The peace of the winter morning, however, was abruptly shattered by the sound of two bodies dropping from the sky to land heavily in a waiting snowbank.

"Oof!" the larger of the two figures grunted as he rolled over into a sitting position. "Bat's breath, that's cold! You okay, Jeff?" Phineas Bogg asked the smaller, dark-haired figure, emerging more slowly from the heaping snow.

"Fine," Jeffrey Jones assured him, brushing ice from the seat of his corduroy pants. "Frozen, but fine. Snow makes for a soft landing. Where are we, Bogg?"

The former pirate flipped back the lid of their brass Omni. "Oberndorf, Austria--December 24, 1818." 

"Red light?" the boy asked, rubbing his bare arms against the chill.

"What else? Any idea what's wrong?"

Jeffrey shook his head. "Not yet. It's Christmas Eve, though."

"So it is." Bogg flipped the Omni shut. As a longtime Voyager, he didn't put much stock in holidays . . . or at least, he hadn't until Jeffrey had come into his life.

"I818," Jeffrey mused aloud. "Austria. Huh. If this were three or four years ago, I'd think Congress of Vienna. Except that we're nowhere near Vienna. Or even Salzburg."

"Looks like we're out in the sticks, instead," Bogg remarked, getting to his feet. "Oberndorf's not exactly a metropolis." He nudged his shivering partner gently. "C'mon, kid--let's see if we can find some warmer clothes. And keep your eyes open for any sign of trouble along the way."

_________

A secondhand clothing shop yielded warmer garments--coats, caps, and even gloves--that went on easily over what they were already wearing, Now appropriately dressed for winter, the Voyagers hastened to mingle with the other villagers, buying bread and cheese at a grocer's and listening to the local gossip, which turned out to be largely mundane. The residents of Oberndorf led quiet lives--about the most exciting thing that had happened recently was that the Salzach River had overflowed its banks. No lives had been lost in the event, however, and now everyone was busy preparing for the holidays, purchasing food and last-minute gifts. Throughout the village, shop windows and doorways were bright with cuttings of holly and ivy, their evergreen fragrance scenting the air.

"I don't get it, Bogg," Jeffrey said, almost an hour later, as they wandered the snow-dusted streets. "Everything just looks like a normal Christmas Eve. No fights to break up, no fires to put out, no trouble at all . . . "

"What about avalanches?" Bogg suggested, peering uneasily up at the surrounding mountains. "Those are the Alps, aren't they?"

"I don't think that's it," said the boy, though he too eyed the mountains askance. "Natural disasters end up in the history books if they're bad enough, and I've never read anything about an Oberndorf avalanche. My dad never mentioned one either."

And since Jeffrey's late father had been a history professor, his word could generally be relied upon. Bogg glanced again at the Omni, its red light still blinking away, and shook his head with a sigh. 

"Well, we're gettin' nowhere fast," he remarked. "Any bright ideas?"

Jeffrey shook his own head. "Sorry, fresh out."

Two women passed them at that moment, young, pretty, and pink-cheeked from the cold. One stole a glance at Bogg as she passed, then nudged her friend and murmured something that made both of them giggle. Bogg couldn't help smiling back. He knew without a trace of false modesty that women found him attractive, and he made no effort to hide his own appreciation of the fair sex.

"Bogg!" Jeffrey was tugging insistently on his sleeve. 

Reluctantly, the ex-pirate turned back to the boy. "What is it, kid?"

"There's a church over there," Jeffrey said, pointing a short distance down the road.

"So?"

"So . . . " The boy flushed, ducking his head before continuing in a low voice. "As long as we're here, and we don't know what's causing the red light, I'd like to go in -- and say a prayer for my folks."

Bogg stared down at his partner, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest. Two years since his parents' deaths, and Jeffrey still grieved for them. He'd healed over time--the nightmares at least were less frequent--but it wasn't as if the kid would ever forget what that loss felt like. Bogg sometimes wished he could, especially when he saw the sadness in the boy's eyes, a sadness that seemed to belong to someone much older than thirteen.

And it would be worse at Christmas. Bogg vividly remembered the first Christmas he and Jeff had spent together, the time he had almost left the boy with his great-grandparents, believing that he would only ever be happy if he were part of a family again. It had hurt horribly to walk out and leave him behind, as if he were ripping out his own heart, but he'd been determined to do what was best for his young friend. He'd never expected Jeffrey to follow him out the door, to choose him and all the hardships of a Voyager's life over a comfortable, settled existence in 1892. But he'd decided then and there that he'd make sure the kid never regretted that choice.

As far as he knew, Jeffrey hadn't, either. But that didn't mean he had stopped thinking about or missing his parents.

The boy's head was still lowered, his gaze fixed on the ground. Bogg cleared his throat and forced himself to speak in a light tone. "Sure thing, kid. Go ahead--I'll wait outside."

Dark eyes lifted to his with a flash of gratitude. "Thanks, Bogg! I'll try not to take too long."

The older Voyager laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Take as long as you need, Jeff."

__________________

Jeffrey had been inside perhaps five minutes when Bogg heard voices and saw two people approaching, a man in a priest's habit and a woman carrying a basket. Weighing the merits of staying where he was or following Jeffrey, Bogg chose the latter: better to be found inside a church than lurking suspiciously outside one. Ducking his head to conceal his face, he slipped through the half-open door and made his way quietly down the nave.

St. Nicholas Church was not a very large building, but it possessed a tranquility that Bogg found oddly restful. Jeffrey was kneeling before the altar rail, his dark head bowed over his folded hands. Not wishing to disturb the boy, Bogg seated himself in one of the pews and simply waited.

Moments later, the voices Bogg had heard earlier came floating down the aisle towards them. Jeffrey looked up from his hands, turning his head towards the sound.

"--and since Friedrich and Emil have outgrown these clothes, it seemed best to bring them here," the woman was saying. "I only hope I am not too late with my donation, Father Mohr."

"An act of charity can never come too late, Frau Schmidt," the priest replied. "The poor will be very thankful for your offering. If you will follow me--" he broke off as he caught sight of Jeffrey, still kneeling at the altar rail. "Well, what have we here? Who are you, child?"

Climbing to his feet, Jeffrey peered through the semi-darkness, eyes widening as he registered the man's clerical collar. "M-my name is Jeffrey, Father," he stammered, doing his best to sound as young and harmless as he looked. "I didn't mean to bother anyone--I just came in to say a prayer for my parents. They died about two years ago."

In the pew, Bogg tensed and leaned slightly forward. Although his first impulse was to trust a man of the cloth, he knew from experience that not all clergymen were as benevolent as their office suggested. And he wasn't about to let anybody intimidate or bully the kid, especially since Jeff had a legitimate reason for being in church.

"I see." The priest stood where he was for a moment, regarding the boy contemplatively. "I am Father Joseph Mohr, assistant pastor of St. Nicholas. Do you wish to light a candle for your parents too?"

"Could I?" 

Father Mohr smiled, and for the first time Bogg saw how young the priest was--perhaps only in his twenties, with a thin, kindly face. "By all means, child. Let me help you."

Bogg relaxed as the priest handed Jeffrey a taper, then instructed the boy on how to light two altar candles, one for each parent. Jeffrey obeyed in rapt silence, then stepped away from the altar and handed back the taper to Father Mohr.

Just then, there was a sudden blur of motion before the altar rail. Two small brown streaks, followed by a much larger white one, shot across the floor and disappeared behind the nearest pew. There were sounds of a scuffle, a faint squeak, then -- nothing. Seconds later, an oversized powder-puff of a cat emerged, carrying the body of its quarry in its mouth.

Jeffrey grimaced and averted his eyes as the cat waddled past him, presumably to consume its prize elsewhere. Father Mohr and Frau Schmidt, however, exchanged satisfied smiles. 

"Thank you for lending us your cat, Frau Schmidt," said the priest. "Our church has been much troubled with mice of late."

"I was happy to help, Father Mohr. And Snowball is one of the best mousers in Oberndorf," the woman reported proudly.

Father Mohr turned back to Jeffrey. "Is there anything more I can do for you, child?" 

"No, thank you, Father," the boy assured him quickly. "I think I'd just like to be alone for a little while--if that's all right."

"Of course," said the priest. "But if you later find you wish to talk, my son, I hope you will come to see me."

"Thank you, Father."

"Now, Frau Schmidt," the priest continued, leading the parishioner away from the altar. "Let me show you where we keep our poorhouse offerings."

Bogg watched the two walk out of sight, then slipped out from behind his own pew to put an arm around his partner's shoulders. "You okay?" 

Jeffrey smiled a tentative welcome. "I'm fine. Just a bit startled, that's all." He fell silent, brows drawing together in what Bogg recognized as his "thinking" look. "Joseph Mohr," he said aloud. "That name sounds awfully familiar, Bogg. I just can't place it yet."

"Give yourself a little time, Jeff. I'm sure it'll come back to you."

"Mmm." The younger Voyager drifted forward to stare at the candles on the altar. "Bogg, look! One of the mice got away." Jeffrey knelt on the floor beside the altar, gazing down at a tiny brown mouse no longer than his index finger, its whiskers and tail twitching with alarm. "Poor thing. Stupid Snowball's probably scared it half to death."

"Cat's just doing its job, kid."

"Huh," said Jeffrey, with adolescent scorn. "That's not a cat--that's a sofa cushion with legs!" Still kneeling, he held out his hand to the mouse, which, after a moment's hesitation, crept forward onto the boy's palm.

"Yuck!" the older Voyager exclaimed. "Jeffrey, put that thing down! You don't know where it's been!"

Jeffrey shot his friend a pitying glance. "Bogg, it's only a church mouse."

Bogg snorted. "Kid, back when I was a pirate, I used to see mice and rats the size of small ponies! Filthy things too--you could get plague. Or scabies. Or at least a bad case of lice!"

Jeffrey shrugged. "It looks clean enough to me--and I'm wearing gloves, anyway. Besides, my mom used to say that the Lord takes care of His own." He stroked the rodent's head gently with one gloved finger. "And maybe even a mouse deserves a lucky break on Christmas Eve."

The sound of voices overhead startled them both: Father Mohr and Frau Schmidt were now up in the organ loft. Although Jeffrey was pretty sure neither could see him from there, he hastily stuffed the mouse into his coat pocket.

"--mice in the loft too," Frau Schmidt was saying reprovingly. "You should bring Snowball up here, Father. She would make short work of them all, I assure you."

"Thank you, Frau Schmidt, I will bear that in mind. It is important that all go well for the midnight service--I have even written a little hymn for the occasion that I hope our congregation will enjoy."

"How lovely!" the woman exclaimed. "Will the choir be performing it?

"Yes, indeed. I had feared the organ might rust when the river last overflowed, but God be praised, it is still working. A Christmas Eve service without music would be a very sad thing--does not the Psalm tell us to 'make a joyful noise unto the Lord'? Just listen." There was a brief pause as the priest seated himself at the instrument, then several notes of music echoed sonorously through the church. 

Jeffrey stiffened, his eyes wide. "Bogg, did you hear that?" he whispered urgently.

"Yeah. Doesn't sound half-bad for an old organ."

"No, not that--the tune! Those were the first notes of 'Silent Night,' one of the most famous Christmas carols ever written."

Bogg peered at his friend. "You sure about that, kid? I know the song too--and I remember it sounding different, somehow." 

"The first version is a little different from the song we've got now. But when I was in junior chorus, we had to learn it in English and German one year for the Christmas pageant. I'm telling you, Bogg, that's 'Silent Night'! And," the boy's eyes glowed with triumph, "it was introduced by Father Joseph Mohr and his friend Franz Gruber on Christmas Eve, 1818!"

"So everything's right on schedule?" Bogg felt more confused than ever.

"I _think_ so. Only . . . " Jeffrey's voice trailed off as he thought, then he looked up, dark eyes widening again. " _That's_ why we've got a red light! Father Mohr's going to play the organ for tonight's service!"

"He's--not supposed to play the organ?"

Jeffrey shook his head so emphatically that his curls bounced. "No, he's not. He asked Gruber to compose 'Silent Night' for the guitar. The organ wasn't working because . . . " his voice faltered suddenly. "Because mice ate through the bellows!"

As one, the Voyagers stared at Jeffrey's coat pocket, bulging and rippling with the movements of its tiny occupant.

__________

"Of all the things we've done as Voyagers, this has to be one of the weirdest," Bogg muttered, glancing around the organ loft to make sure no one had followed them. They'd snuck up here the moment they had seen Father Mohr and Frau Schmidt descend and make their way to another part of the church, but one couldn't be too careful.

Crumbling up the last of their bread and cheese, Jeffrey sprinkled a few of the fragments behind the organ, taking care to let several fall onto the bellows. Next, he retrieved the mouse from his pocket and set it down gently beside the nearest crumb trail. "Here you go, buddy," he murmured. "I hope this works," he added, straightening up. "There may be lots of mice up here but they still have to be pretty hungry to chew through a leather bellows."

"Trust me, once they smell that cheese, they'll be ready to chew through sheet metal to get it. Anything else we should do?" 

Jeffrey thought for a moment, then looked up alertly. "The cat! You have to make sure it doesn't come back, or that Father Mohr doesn't bring it up to the loft!"

" _Me?_ How did that get to be my job?"

"You'd prefer the mice?"

"Okay, okay," Bogg grumbled. "I'll take care of the cat."

Jeffrey flashed him a grin. "Hey, at least it's not a dog!"

"Very funny, kid."

____________

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty." Bogg tried to make his voice low and coaxing.

Snowball, unimpressed, arched her back and spat at him. 

"Great," Bogg muttered. "Just great." Abandoning cajolery, he reached out for the cat and stifled a yelp as her claws scored the back of his hand. "Bat's breath!"

 _Rotten cat._ Nursing his hand, he glared at his feline adversary, his blue eyes boring into her narrowed green ones. He'd run Snowball to ground in a side chapel, but so far she showed no sign of being willing to go with him. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to use force--the cat would probably yowl her fool head off--but the sooner he and Jeffrey pulled this off and got out of the church, the better.

His gloves were in his pocket. Maybe it had been foolish to remove them but he had initially feared they might interfere with his grip on the cat. Better that, though, than getting his hands shredded by her claws. Fumbling in his coat pocket for the gloves, Bogg discovered something else--and a new plan swiftly formed in his mind. 

Beef jerky. Well, it was worth a try. Taking out a stick of the dried meat, Bogg tore off a small piece, dropped it in front of the cat, then stepped ostentatiously back. Still regarding the Voyager balefully, Snowball inched forward and sniffed at the fragment on the floor. Then, as though conferring a favor, the cat took the morsel in her mouth and began to chew, somehow managing to eat, growl, and glare at the same time.

Bogg glowered back. "The feeling's mutual, furball."

Tearing off more scraps of jerky, he began to lay a trail, as Jeffrey had done for the mice. Feline disdain warred with feline greed, the latter finally winning out. After swallowing the first morsel, Snowball began to waddle after the rest. Watching the cat's dawdling progress, Bogg decided that Jeffrey's description of a sofa cushion with legs was all too accurate.

He had used up about half the stick when he noticed the small room just off the chapel. Choir robes hung from wall racks, and a clothes press, containing only spare vestments, stood in one corner. Summoning up a patience he had not known he possessed, Bogg enticed Snowball into the room and finally over to the clothes press, assisting the cat into the latter with a none too gentle shove of his boot and closing the door on her indignant meow.

Success. Bogg heaved a sigh and mopped his brow with the back of his unscratched hand. He had no doubt that Snowball would soon make her presence heard--after she'd finished the jerky anyway--and be freed, but at least she'd be out of commission long enough for history to get back on track.

 _When the cat's away, the mice will play._ Smiling over the appropriateness of the saying, Bogg went to retrieve Jeffrey.

______________

It was several hours later, as they loitered by a shop just within view of the church, that Jeffrey nudged his partner excitedly. "Bogg, there he goes!" 

Following the boy's gaze, Bogg saw the lanky form of Father Mohr, coat flapping in the wind, strode down the steps of St. Nicholas Church and began making its way rapidly across town. 

"Franz Gruber lives about three miles away, so he's got no time to lose," Jeffrey continued. "Good thing he's already written the words to the song. What does the Omni say?"

"Green light, kid," Bogg reported triumphantly, showing him the device. "We did it! Hey," he peered more closely at Jeff. "Why the long face?"

"Well, Father Mohr's a good man. I feel kind of sorry about wrecking the organ," the boy admitted. "Even if things are supposed to happen this way."

"Want to make a confession?" Bogg teased.

"Not _that_ sorry!"

Bogg chuckled, then exhaled in relief. "Sure glad that's over! I'm freezing--and hungry. If I drank, I'd want a beer, but I'll settle for a good dinner instead. How about you?"

"Sounds great," Jeffrey replied. "Bogg--now that we've fixed everything, can we stay for the Mass tonight?"

"I dunno, Jeff. It's a long time 'til midnight. We should probably be on our way after we eat."

"But it's Christmas Eve!" The boy's dark eyes gazed at him imploringly, like those of a lost puppy.

"Knock it off, kid--I'm immune."

"Please?" Again the big-eyed look, this time slanting upward through a fringe of dark lashes.

Bogg felt his resolve weakening and stifled a sigh. "Dinner first," he said firmly. "And then--we'll see."

Jeffrey's smile lit up his entire face.

____________

The inn was warm and hospitable, run by a jovial middle-aged couple who clearly loved feeding people. Their appetites whetted by the mountain air, the two Voyagers feasted on vegetable soup, golden-brown wiener schnitzel with mashed potatoes, and finally an apfelstrudel topped with cream. There was coffee too, among the best Bogg had ever tasted. Jeffrey tried some, but had to dilute his with milk and sugar first. Bogg watched with a mixture of amusement and apprehension: Jeffrey on caffeine was an alarming prospect to consider. In his private opinion, the kid got enough stimulation as it was!

Whether it was the coffee or the excitement, they were both wide awake when twelve o'clock arrived and they entered St. Nicholas Church for the midnight Mass. Slipping into one of the back pews, they sat quietly as the words of the ancient story rolled over them, soothing and eloquent in their very simplicity.

Both Voyagers straightened in their seats when Father Mohr, flanked by a sturdy dark-haired man perhaps in his thirties, came forward, holding a guitar. Standing before the altar, the priest gently strummed the opening chords and began to sing:

_"Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht!_  
 _Alles schläft; einsam wacht_  
 _Nur das traute hochheilige Paar._  
 _Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar. . . "_

Father Mohr sang tenor, his friend Gruber bass, their disparate voices complementing each other beautifully. Behind them stood the choir, joining in to provide a four-part harmony on the last two lines of each verse:

_"Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!  
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!"_

As an appreciative murmur rose from the congregation at the hymn's conclusion, Jeffrey leaned into his partner's encircling arm. "Merry Christmas, Bogg."

Smiling, the older Voyager pulled the boy a little closer. "Merry Christmas, kid."

END

 

_Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all the earth:  
make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise._

\--Psalms 98:4

**Author's Note:**

> The origins of "Silent Night" were too fun not to play with. Hope other Voyagers fans will think the same!


End file.
